The Labyrinth Within

Trapped by regrets and haunted by past mistakes, The Labyrinth Within follows a person struggling to break free from the cycle of longing and dissatisfaction as they reflect on their life.

I’m in love with my bed.

Its mahogany frame, wool and silk for skin, springs for joints and warmth for an embrace. I’ve shared more memories with my bed than any other living being. If I had it my way I would never open my eyes, I would never leave its embrace, for outside that embrace are four walls.

Walls that no one else sees but me. Solid walls that hung and follow me everywhere like dark clouds. Taunting me with the ever-open door. Fully aware of my fear of what’s on the other side.

I’m surrounded by humanity, by places, but these walls isolate me from forming any real connections, from trying different sites and sounds. Though my feet are solidly on the ground, I feel suspended. At times wobbly as a sailor out at sea.

Out at sea would be the best phrase to describe my life. I’m surrounded by everything yet nothing, surrounded by elements that give, grow and sustain life, but, personally feel, hard, cold…lifeless.

Although my bed tries its best to offer all the amenities needed to travel to Wonderland, I’m constantly bullied by days gone by, rattled by mistakes committed and awoken by a past that is far better than my mind perceives it.

I lay in bed sometimes wishing, I could turn the clock back to a time when my biggest worry was what would happen to Samurai Jack. A time when I looked forward to a Saturday cartoon and a Sunday-School get together as eagerly as my peers look forward to their monthly payslips.

Despite my wish to go back, deep down, I’m fully aware that, given the opportunity, I’d opt out. Would I want to relive unbelievably foolish deeds? Would I want to see those same looks of disappointment when those who had placed their faith in me realised they’d bet on a losing horse?

Truth be told, I was young and possibly naïve, with much growing up to do, but still, why does it feel like I’m the only one who’s paying for past mistakes? Those who’ve walked the same path as me keep reiterating that I need to let go if, I want to gather any forward momentum. I’m tempted to tell them that I’m not holding onto my past, but rather, my past is holding onto me.

Those around me would probably laugh if I ever truly spoke my mind. When not in bed, it feels like I’m in someone else’s skin. My current life is akin to being a video game character. No matter what I do, the result appears to have been programmed years ago. And unlike modern games, my franchise doesn’t believe in sequels.

I’m stuck in this loop, where even my key wins seem too ludicrous compared to those around me. Right above my bed is a poster proudly proclaiming. Don’t compare; it’s your ship, your mission. No one else but YOU, will choose how it’s carried out. Those words, just like the poster, have been fading.

It’s almost, metaphorical.

As the poster’s once vibrant colours fade, so do the words lose the appeal they once held when they were hung there, a week after a high school report card declared Jason Walker is a failure.

What’s worse than being labelled a fiasco?

Watching your mates go on to conquer the world, whilst you’re stuck in your war zone for a home, wondering if, a year to marking a quarter of a century on earth, your character had just completed its final level.

That orchestra builds to an ear-piercing high every time you cross paths with those mates. When they ask, what are you up to? Proceeding to rumble about all their achievements and soon-to-be conquered ‘kingdoms’, after a half-baked answer from yours truly.

A dual-threat student, I had my life seemingly figured out. After school, I’d likely continue running down the wing, scoring try-after-try whilst juggling law classes. The one bullet point that was my crown jewel in my to-do list after school was, ‘put some major distance between myself and my parents’, individuals who slipped through Dana White’s eagle eye.

We plan, but God laughs.

If there’s even a shroud of truth from that statement, then it means the Most High was on his knees after receiving the prayers containing my to-do list. There’s an African proverb our rugby coach was fond of reciting, ‘The one the gods wish to destroy, they shine a light on him, making others see him as special.’

Envy and jealousy are traits found in all humans. We tend to want what we can’t have or don’t deserve and, as such, develop snake eyes towards those who seemingly have ‘everything’, regardless of whether they acquired it by legal or illegal means. The gods knew this, and whenever one of their creations thought themselves bigger than their maker, they would simply shine a light on them, elevating them above their peers. 

Filled with jealousy as they saw one who, in their eyes, ‘didn’t deserve’ their new status, they would begin plotting. The destruction of the said individual would soon follow. It was a way for the gods to ensure they could destroy someone without being labelled evil. When the said individual would fall, the masses would dismiss it as the will of the gods. Either way, they were correct.

Our coach often recited this phrase after every victory or spell of wins. It reminded us that our victory came from hard work and faith. Anything less would lead to destruction.

While I was never a boastful athlete, being the captain of a team that just achieved a three-peat tends to bring attention to the individual. My life tends to make me ponder what issue the gods possibly have with me. 

Sailors of centuries gone by would often look towards the horizon during the day and up to the stars at night for navigation. My days are filled with dark clouds, whilst my nights seem darker than usual.

No mortal man has the power of foresight, and sometimes fortune does favour the bold. A nagging feeling persists in my mind that if I were to simply walk through that open door, whatever lies beyond would no longer seem as threatening. Strangely, my courage always falters just before I cross the threshold.

Author's Note

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